A Swing and a Miss
by Vathara
Summary: Secret agencies should not try to snatch mutation biologists.


****

A Swing and a Miss

Author's Notes: This story (and every other "Urban Legend") is set in a variant of Gryph's "Deep Water" universe, developed by Gryph and Laura Boeff. Godzilla: The Series belongs to Toho and Tristar, the NID bad guys from Stargate belong to Showtime, MGM, Gekko, and Double Secret; Airwolf belongs to Bellisario and Universal. Airwolf is AU (events and tech moved ahead about twenty years). Story set after "Building Bridges" and "Night of the Tentacle".

~*~*~*~*~  
_From: "Wood duck"  
To: "Flicker"  
Re: Mission Expenses_

Sir,

We must respectfully draw your attention to the following equipment losses and expenses incurred in the attempted execution of operation "Takeout". 

Calibrated doses of tranquilizer, 5.  
Wetsuits, 4.  
SCUBA gear, re-breathing; 3 total losses, 1 possible to rebuild….

~*~*~*~*~  
_Something's up. I just know it._

Dr. Niko Tatopoulos, biologist, mutation specialist, and unofficial leader of H.E.A.T., leaned against what was left of the dock railing and regarded the lone French member of his team with narrowed eyes. Below, the Zodiac's rubber hull squeaked as it rubbed against the dock ladder, half-filled with biological testing gear. Pale fingers drummed an absent rhythm against his waterproof notebook; they might be just planning a quick run into the harbor, but he'd been soaked too many times to trust any data to pen and paper. 

Monique Dupres returned his gaze, cool as polar seas. A suspicious lump was barely visible under her black leather jacket. Nick hoped it was just a flare gun. Her belt held canisters he'd seen used to great effect the last time they'd broken into a classified base. Morning sun glinted off water-slick dark hair. From the herbal fragrance of shampoo, she'd showered not that long before, but a scent of salt and seaweed still lingered. 

__

Definitely up, Nick concluded. "Honesty, Monique. It does work sometimes. What's going on?"

"If fortune is with us, very little," the spy shrugged. She cast a cool glance over the harbor. "Conduct your tests with Dr. Chapman. I will attend to any… annoying details." 

Nick arched a skeptical brow. "Are any of these details going to need one of us standing by to post bail?" 

__

"Non." A slow, subtle smile. 

Nick sighed. _I tried_. "Be careful." 

"I am not the one taking blood samples from a fire-breathing mutation," Monique said acerbically, granting Elsie Chapman a polite nod as the paleontologist wrestled the last box of materials out onto the dock. _"Bonne chance."_

"Thanks, Frenchie." Elsie waited until stalking footfalls were out of earshot. "Any luck?" 

Nick shook his head. "Whatever it is, she doesn't want to talk about it." 

"News flash, Nicky," the paleontologist snorted. "Spies usually don't want to talk. That's why they're called spies?" 

Nick looked down at his hands, white knuckles clutching rust-spotted steel. "I thought she was starting to trust us." 

"She does. Kinda." Elsie gave him a wry smile. "She didn't say something _wasn't_ going on." 

"Now my head hurts." 

"Now you know what most of us feel like trying to out-guess the big guy." Red hair whipped in the breeze off the bay as she climbed down to the Zodiac. "Come on. Now that I know you're riled up, I really want to check him."

Lifejacket on, he dropped the last few feet into the boat. "You think there might be a biochemical component to the bond?" 

"It would explain some of our behavioral observations," Elsie shrugged. "You were massively exposed to whatever compounds were present in an egg from the original Godzilla, and you definitely have a few odd components in your bloodstream. He licks you every so often, apparently in the context of reaffirming the parental connection; we still haven't figured out everything in his saliva, but we do have some evidence that the level of those components seems to jump afterward." She cast him an inquiring glance. "Always doubt your own theories this much, Nick?"

Reluctantly, he drew his gaze from the flow of crimson in the wind, met amused green eyes. "Only when I'm this close to my study subject."

~*~*~*~*~  
Randy Hernandez all but danced in place as Monique stalked in, a specialized radio-control panel near his eager dark hands. "So? Now what?"

Midnight brows slashed up. "We wait." 

"Wait? We're just gonna wait here?" The hacker craned a head toward the harbor, where a Zodiac was just pulling out of sight. "While they-" 

"They will do nothing unwatched by my… associates," the spy said deliberately. "We wait." 

Blue-jacketed shoulders slumped. "We should have told Nick."

__

"Non." No compromise in that dark gaze. "Should they breach our perimeter, he must react as if the threat is real."

"They get past us, Monique, it will be," Randy warned. _Man, if I didn't know Nick trusted you and your boss… Phillipe better know what he's doing._

"And should fortune run so against us, they will encounter a man who has no intention of being kidnapped again. A man who is Godzilla's parent." A thin smile crossed her lips. "_Trés mal chance_, for them." 

__

Lady, sometimes you are cold. Randy didn't know what worried him more; the fact that Monique was what she was, or that he was falling for her anyway. "You sound like you want them to get fried." 

A Gallic shrug. "I believe you say, live and let live? As I would. If _they_ would. But they will not." The cold smile faded, allowing a hint of concern to show around dark eyes. "I know those I am working with, Randy. We are, as you Americans say, covered." 

"Yeah." Randy eyed his laptop, where a pair of glowing marks traced the two biologists across a harbor map. "So covered you put tracers on them, then made sure Dr. C.'d be out of here, getting parts over in Jersey." 

"It is wise to minimize our risks," Monique allowed. She leaned on a counter, coiled watchfulness in every line of muscle. "Calm. It will be soon." 

~*~*~*~*~  
Re-breathing gear leaving no trace of bubbles, four men in dark wetsuits assembled under a H.E.A.T. buoy. Faces were painted dark, blacking out all skin not covered by neoprene. A few last-minute hand-signs discussed the particulars of the orange rubber that was their target; gauging which shifts in the raft were equipment, which the scientists they'd been targeted to capture. 

A flash of red caught one diver's eye. He made a beckoning motion, pointed to the weighted tip of the buoy. 

Weighted with more than lead. A motion-sensitive camera gleamed in scattered sunlight, catching four wide pairs of eyes behind masks.

~*~*~*~*~  
"Smile, you're on spy TV," Randy murmured, eyeing his screen. _Wait for it, wait_….

Monique studied their gear. Nodded.

He flicked the remote detonator.

~*~*~*~*~  
Elsie stiffened at the first _crump_. "What the-" 

Nick didn't bother asking; the biologist yanked the motor on and headed in a wide swing away from the buoy. _Same old, same old_, he thought dryly. _Hear one underwater explosion, you've heard them all._

Irritation swelled, swamping rational thought in one alien rush of _anger, territory invaded, threat-to-parent_-

"Elsie!" Nick dropped the motor controls, grabbed onto a safety line for dear life. He was not turning around. He was not going to gun the motor. He was _not_ going to deliberately run live blades over the stunned men bobbing to the surface….

And the men shrieked anyway, one desperately paddling away from a down-suck of water, two others flung aside with a casual brush of emerald-gray scales. Spikes cleared the water, then a wet curve of scales, up and up until amber rose clear and angry to stare at the last, lone frogman in the bay.

A man who blanched, and drew a gun, and-

Nick _felt_ the blink, shrugging off hot lead as his own eyes might a bumbling bee. _Oh, no. Don't. Please._

A snort of breath, white in New York sunshine; Godzilla had no use for leaving threats alive. But if his parent was that unhappy about it…. 

The impact was light, like batting a ball of tissue against his cheek. Only the fading scream told Nick otherwise. 

Elsie cocked her head toward the distant _splash_. "Yow. That had to hurt." She peered over the water, hand shading her eyes, searching for the bobbing forms of the divers. "We'd better call Harbor Patrol. They may still be breathing, but I wouldn't lay odds on them being conscious." Her voice dropped. "Nick?"

__

In. Out. Breathe. Shield. Nick heard her as if through deep water, still caught in the undertow of _threat-hunt-kill_. "Can't. Drive." 

"That's okay." The paleontologist's hand dropped onto his shoulder, squeezed gently. "It's okay, Nick, I've got it. You calm him down." 

"Trying." _It's okay_, Nick tried to project outward. _I'm okay_. 

The swell of emotion calmed; a swift river, instead of a roaring tide. The massive head bent near, amber gaze worried and watchful. _Hurt?_

No. No, I'm okay. Thank you. Hard to think that last, still fighting for control. Still struggling to stay on top of instinct, that really, really _wanted_ to wipe out any potential threat….

"We can head back in." 

"No," Nick bit out. _Breathe. In. Out._ "We came out here to do a job." Another breath. _Calm. Control._ "I've just… got to deal with this."

"Then you'd better talk him into letting me take the samples," Elsie said frankly, watching his hands shake. "You, are in no shape to play with needles." 

Godzilla snorted, link vibrating with amusement. 

~*~*~*~*~  
_Sets of false IDs: 8.  
Bribes to medical personnel: 3.   
Use of back door into NYPD mainframe: 2…._

~*~*~*~*~  
Monique frowned, watching the Harbor Patrol exit the area. In the level below she could hear those in her charge tying up the Zodiac. Dr. Chapman's voice held an edge of false brightness; Nick's, the weary exhaustion of one more battle not to yield to Godzilla's instincts. "There exists no record of such persons?" 

"Oh, there's a record." Marella Duval's voice on the phone held wry amusement. Monique could almost see the dark agent twirl a phone cord in her fingers as she coordinated the silent war now raging in Staten Island. "Backstopped just enough to hold through a first check."

"Ah." 

"We'll have someone snatch their fingerprints when they're processed. If they have fingerprints." White silk whispered as the Firm operative leaned back in her chair. "Frankly, I'm more interested in seeing how our unexpected guests will handle the police records." 

Monique shrugged. "It is possible they will be left to their own devices." Failed operatives were a liability. 

"That'd be the smart thing, yes." 

"You do not believe they will?" Archangel's operatives were known for their swift judgment of their opponents. 

"As the boss would say, wait and see." 

"Sorry!" Randy's voice called up. "I tried to talk him out of it." 

The elevator doors _thump_ed. "Monique?" Nick advanced into the lab, hair still spiked and wet, stance tense, but not quite threatening. Not yet. "Could we talk a minute?"

"Is he going to be difficult about this?" Marella inquired, politely interested.

"One hopes not." Monique held the receiver away. _"Oui?"_

The mutation biologist looked at her askance. "For future reference, explosions do _not_ constitute 'annoying details'." 

The French spy shrugged. 

Nick sighed. "What's going on?" 

Hmm. How best to explain…. Ah. _Let us see how deep Archangel's trust runs._ "Dr. Tatopoulos, Dr. Marella Duval." Monique offered the phone, leaning near so she might hear as well. "She is assisting me with the… details." 

"So to speak." Marella's voice was wry. "The situation is still in flux, Dr. Tatopoulos, so I'll keep this short. I work for a certain government agency-" 

"Whose government?" Nick pounced. 

"Yours," came the blunt reply. "Put simply, our sources developed information that a certain unauthorized group had plans to acquire you for their own purposes. We're stopping them." 

"Acquire…" Nick paled. 

"Calm." Monique gripped his shoulder, willing the man to seize his tattered emotions, to draw strength from her presence before his fear drew Godzilla down on them all. "I am here, yes? You are safe." 

"Not yet," Marella corrected. "But we're working the problem. Stay inside if you can; stay close to Mme. Dupres if you can't." Her voice warmed. "And don't worry. Archangel says anyone with the guts enough to infiltrate the NRC to shut down nuclear power can take slime like this with one hand behind his back." Something chimed. "Excuse me. I need to get medieval on someone." 

Nick handed back the phone, a shell-shocked expression on his face. "What - she-"

"That is what you had planned to accomplish, is it not?" Hanging up, Monique arched dark brows. "I, too, read your papers. You concealed it within the biological terms, but the intent shows clear to those with eyes to see." Though Hicks had never seen it. Just as well.

The biologist shook his head, still dazed. "Who's Archangel?" 

"Mam'selle Duval's superior in the Firm," Monique reported. "A man who, many years ago, also encountered Rush. To his great dismay." 

Now she had Nick's full attention. "He took a dose and survived." 

"It was forced upon him," Monique corrected. "But yes. He survived. And, so far, has managed to conceal the implications from his superiors." 

"The-" Nick sucked in a breath, face white. "He's an empath." 

"It is likely." Monique met his gaze, level as a sword. "I do not know how much he knows. What he suspects - could be much." She offered a hand, palm up. "But Archangel has sworn to defend this country and its people, and he is a man of his word. He will protect you. As I do." A hint of smile curved dark lips. "Though I, of course, am the one in charge." 

"When it comes to security." Nick took it, grip steady even with the sweat of settling fear. "Why didn't you tell me about him before?"

Loneliness. She could hear it in that hesitation in Nick's voice, see it in the unsteady flick of his gaze. The biologist had been cast into the psychic's world with no warning, no hint that there were others out there like himself. _And there are none like him_, Monique knew. _Empaths, yes; and those bonded to other minds. But Godzilla is unique._

She glanced away, gathering her thoughts. "Archangel is… not a safe person to know," Monique said at last. "He deals in the shadows. Espionage. The dark side of diplomacy. He is known to be dangerous. And part of your safety has been that _you_ are not."

Nick tilted his head, considering that. "But you think he's a good person." 

"In my world? _Oui._ He is a most excellent person. Clever. Subtle. Loyal to his people." A shift of black-clad shoulders. "He may work against my government, as your government requires, yet he strives to avoid harming the innocent. If it were safe - if it should chance that _he_ thought it safe - _oui_, I would have you meet." She gestured to the elevator. "Come. Mendel shall be returning, and we must be ready." 

The biologist shot her a hard look. "You think they'll go after him?"

"I believe they will _attempt_ to." Monique smiled. "So let us speak of our opponents, and how we mean to turn the tide." 

~*~*~*~*~  
_Master keys to appropriated vehicle: 2.  
Fee to actress: 1.  
Bail: 3…._

~*~*~*~*~  
Whistling, Mendel Craven wove through the streets of Staten Island, working his way from the populated edges toward the wild stretch of shore near the old ferry building that served as H.E.A.T.'s home base. _Patterned circuits, metal plating… ah, nothing beats shopping for spare parts._

A flutter of white hands caught his eye; Mendel slowed, hitting his turn signal as he pulled off beside the stalled Trans Am on the edge of the road. The short-skirted blonde sighed, bounced up beside his door. "Thank goodness! I didn't think _anybody_ would stop out here. Could you help me? I think it's the alternator." 

"Sure." She was certainly… aesthetically constructed, Mendel realized, peering under the hood. And smiling. And… why was the hair prickling on the back of his neck? 

__

I really don't want to turn around, do I? 

Thump. "Hey - urk!" _Crash._

Suddenly, the blonde wasn't smiling. 

In fact, she was backing up. Fast. 

Not fast enough. A well-known hand snagged her shoulder, and a familiar throat cleared. "I'd be really interested to see how you explain this to the police," Nick stated, securing the woman's wrists in a plastic tie. 

"Hey." The blonde tried a winning smile. "It was just a gag, you know? Surprise birthday party." 

Cloth dragged over asphalt; Monique, hauling one of three groggy guys by his ankles. The operative dropped him by the car, went through his vest to pull out all too familiar, unpleasant equipment. "Such do not usually come with tasers and tranquilizing darts. As you well know." 

"Ahh…." The blonde's charm dimmed. 

"Let's go." Nick steered Mendel toward H.E.A.T's blue Jeep, while Monique absconded with his car keys. 

"Yo. Mendel," Randy said as they pulled away, "Doesn't your Mom tell you not to talk to strange ladies?" 

"Pizza delivery?" Elsie pointed out dryly. 

"Hey. That could've happened to anybody…." 

"Just drive." Nick's voice was tired. 

"Is something wrong?" Mendel asked. Tried to hide his shiver; if Nick looked like that, he pretty much _knew_ what was wrong. _Something inside your mind… thank goodness it's not me. I'd go nuts if it were me._

"We had to leave a gel mid-run to get to you." No hint of condemnation in Elsie's tone, just a wry statement of fact. "But we've got other samples." 

__

Left a gel? Mendel swallowed. He'd worked with these two biologists long enough to know what that meant. _What a mess._ "You blew an experiment? For me?" It felt - weird. Warm, and safe, and - shaky as if the ground had been pulled out from under him. 

MIT would never do that. The Navy wouldn't. 

"Mendel." Nick cracked open tired eyes. "When the _Seeker_ goes out, with all the equipment we've packed into it, there are only five pieces that aren't expendable." The biologist gave him a faint, honest smile. "You're one of them." 

~*~*~*~*~  
_Change of unlisted numbers to avoid solicitation: 4.  
Penicillin shots: 4.  
Refund on abandoned rental: 1…._

~*~*~*~*~  
A click of circuits, and a familiar voice on Monique's line. "We have located the third group."

Phillipe. The French operative felt a knot of tension relax, even as her nerves tightened. Mutual goals they might have, but arranging cooperation between the Firm and the SDECE was… touchy. _So. It is not over._ "I understand." She paced near enough the railing to look down on her charges, noted the drag of Nick's step. Dealing with the police over the blonde snare had drained them all; though to their credit, the Staten Island authorities had been almost sympathetic to the team's desire to leave the scene and avoid further trouble. "Direct contact would not be wise." 

"Unfortunate." 

Yes; they had hoped to implicate these rogues in crimes that would force investigation. Ah, well. "Ashes do not respond well to questioning." 

__

"C'est vrai." A hint of amusement entered her superior's voice. "It is deplorable, is it not? How many muggers there are in New York." 

Monique allowed herself a slim smile. _"Oui."_

~*~*~*~*~  
In an alley not far from H.E.A.T. headquarters, four men dressed in casual clothes waited in a nondescript gray van. One checked his watch. A second fiddled with a police monitor. The last two played a silent hand of cards, waiting for the word that their target was in position. 

From the rooftops, a spray can clattered down. 

When the drugged mists finally cleared, the anonymous foursome found themselves in a locale the NYPD's local Vice Division knew well. Lady Priscilla's Manse of Delights was no place to wake up in the middle of a raid, groggy, sore, chained to the wall, and upside down.

The photographs came out perfectly. 

~*~*~*~*~  
"So it's over?" Elsie asked, green sweatshirt crumpled where she leaned against Nick.

"For now." Monique cast her gaze over H.E.A.T., noting how the team had clumped together in the fading twilight, eyes that would normally be peering through microscopes alert and watchful. Silently, she damned the NID and all their petty, shadowy plays for power. H.E.A.T. risked their lives to protect the world, facing down mutations; they had no need to suspect their fellow humans as well. 

She kept the rage hidden, filtered through an operative's calm control. "They have spent much, and received little in return. It will be some time before they attempt this again."

Nick met her eyes, clear blue cool as the harbor before a storm. "Is there anything we can do?" Not a simple question. Not from the man who stood as Godzilla's parent. 

"Live," the French spy said simply. "And trust. I will watch over you." 

~*~*~*~*~  
_While our branch of the NID is covert and not subject to oversight, nevertheless a rational man must conclude that there is a limit to how much we can divert from various Pentagon slush funds. We must also weigh the cost/benefit ratio and conclude it drastically impaired when so many agents are wounded, hospitalized, and/or traumatized to the point of needing immediate psychiatric attention. (See attached sub-memo, Dispersal of Funds for Medical Treatment.) I would advise the tactical value of this target be reassessed._

With respect,

"Wood duck".

Battered, bruised, and thoroughly embarrassed, the NID agent dropped the covert memo into its discreet envelope. "Sir, you want him so bad," the naval operative muttered, "_You_ go tangle with Godzilla!"

~*~*~*~*~  
Translations from French:

__

Bonne chance.- Good luck.  
_Non_ - No.  
_Trés mal chance_ - Very bad luck.  
_Oui._ - Yes.  
_C'est vrai._ - That's true.


End file.
